We practiced frequently. We had a storage space at the studio, so Debbie kept her drums, I my amp (another autobiography: "I, My Amp"), and Kathy her bass rig, a largish thing, an Acoustic, some name like that, maybe an Ampeg.
Well, in the heat of our loud, loud, loud rehearsals, Kathy would turn to her amp, to sip her tea, or dig in her purse puddled upon the amp, and that hollow body Hofner would start to feedback, building from a low hmmm, building building HMMMM building HHHMMMMMWHOOOOEEEEEEE whereupon Debbie and I would yell "Kathy! Don't!"
We were, at that time, looking for a name, using the age-old practice of anything that came to mind. For example: The Three-piece Power Trio, The Ass Kickers, the Drip Coffee Cones, the Loofas, the Car Keys, the Left Turn Indicators, the I Can't Park Here It's Illegal I'll Get A Ticket Oh Fuckit I'm Immortals, etcetera, the Etceteras. Etcetera. "Etcetera" a Celtic Metal band. Lots of dry ice...
It was maddening.
"Kathy! Don't!!"
"The Contractions?"
Lots of laughter. "Kathy, Don't, Debbie Doesn't, Mary Won't!" Haw, haw, haw. Tee hee. Giggle. Giggle.
At that very moment, another musician opened the door to our room, and said, "You guys sound good, what's your name?"
We looked at each other, and answered, "The Contractions."
Tada.